


I Could Be The One Who Could Ignite Your Night

by Shirimikaze



Category: Produce 101 (TV), Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Biting, I guess this counts as fluff in a way, I have no excuse for this but no shame either, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, Smoking, they both tease each other to death and beyond, why is everything I make violently gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-16
Updated: 2017-09-16
Packaged: 2018-12-30 07:48:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12104061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shirimikaze/pseuds/Shirimikaze
Summary: Woojin went to prop himself on the railing, his elbows the span of a hand away from where Jihoon was settled. “One of these days you’ll end up falling and I won’t be there to glue your reckless ass back together.”Jihoon snorted. “I’ve already fallen for you, though.”Alternatively: This is literally just 3,5k words of Jihoon and Woojin being kissy, touchy-feely, and absolute fools for each other. I have no excuse for this.





	I Could Be The One Who Could Ignite Your Night

**Author's Note:**

> Title inspired by the total EDM bop Sungwoon sexy danced to on Weekly Idol - "Panama City Beach" by Pink Slip
> 
> For the people waiting for an update on my chaptered fic - worry not, that's still coming, half my chapter is done, I just really felt like writing this in between for stress relief.

Woojin sneaked himself into the softest hoodie and shorts combo he could dig out of the closet before throwing himself on his mattress head-first at full velocity. There were few ways of ending a busy day more fulfilling than diving in the comfort of cold sheets after a long self-indulgent shower. Woojin drowned time and reality between two earphones in the embrace of his bed and fresh clothes that still wafted off the soothing scent of laundry detergent.

“Fuck.”

Woojin took an earbud out and threw a lazy gaze at the source of the voice. “Is that my hoodie?” Jihoon was leaning on the bedroom door threshold, expression dyed in disbelief.

A sly grin stretched over Woojin’s face. “I won’t deny that.” He put his earphone back in and buried his face in the pillow once more.

It didn’t take long till Woojin felt the part of the mattress near his legs dipping beneath Jihoon’s weight. Jihoon pushed Woojin a bit closer to the outer edge of the bed so he could comfortably squish himself in the inner side and lean back on the bedroom wall. The mattress wasn’t of noteworthy size. It had stopped shocking them how well they fit together quite a while ago.

Woojin dully registered the sensation of water droplets tapping and slowly slipping down the back of his calf. Jihoon’s hair was still wet. He had taken the familiar route straight to Woojin’s room immediately out of the shower as well. A mosaic of goosebumps rose where the cool droplets clung to Woojin’s skin.

Words may not have been Woojin’s strong suit, but he wouldn’t have believed it if anyone had told him there was a more fitting explanation for his dynamic with Jihoon than “right”. Just right. The two were doing little more than simply breathing in the same vicinity, yet it felt like even such a trivial activity would’ve been more demanding had the boys been on their own. Shared silence weighed less.

Woojin was submerging deeper and deeper into the melody flowing from his regular playlist, until a particular sensation yanked him swiftly back to the surface of reality.

Jihoon’s gaze was bidding goodbye to every water droplet slipping from his bangs. The trails they left over Woojin’s skin slightly glimmered, playing games with Jihoon’s eyes. The view made him move before it could make him register his actions. He reached over to follow one of the trails with the tips of his fingers, to satiate the curiosity that had bubbled over whether Woojin’s skin was as smooth as it seemed under the dim bedroom lighting.

Most of Woojin’s senses were preoccupied with the feeling of Jihoon’s fingertips making their way higher and higher up his bare leg. The music from his earphones barely reached his mind. Tap by tap, Jihoon’s pointer and middle fingers were roaming up the back of Woojin’s thigh. At some point of the journey above his knee, Woojin had come to realize he was holding his breath in, and a part of his mind honestly wanted to grab Jihoon’s hand and scold him for the anguishing slow pace at which he was going. Jihoon knew Woojin’s upper thighs were a sensitive zone and shamelessly used that knowledge for evil. The pitter-patter of fingertips was mere centimeters away from the lower hem of Woojin’s shorts and Woojin once again concluded his inner balance was way too frail for all this teasing shtick.

Abruptly, in a stark contrast to its languid buildup, the thread of anticipation that hung around Woojin’s neck and held back his breath was severed when Jihoon’s fingers stopped just shy of the fabric they were walking towards. Woojin was legitimately about to smother Jihoon with a pillow as payback for the torture, but let out a faint gasp once Jihoon dug his nails into his skin and dragged them down the back of his thigh in that same forsaken speed.

A gust of satisfaction permeated Jihoon once he saw the line of goosebumps he left behind. The concentrated state of admiration for his work collapsed when Woojin yanked his earphones out and chucked his phone aside on the night stand. Woojin turned over to lay on his back, giving Jihoon a clouded gaze once he settled comfortably.

“Park Jihoon,” the name was exactly where it belonged, slipping down Woojin’s tongue, weaved into a low tone.

Jihoon didn’t need to be called twice before wholeheartedly accepting the invitation. Small mattress creaks accompanied his every move once he shifted to swing a leg over Woojin and crawl closer to him, stopping only when their faces were a breath apart.

Due to the proximity they were standing at, the cheap bedroom lightbulb couldn’t have done much to illuminate either of their features properly, yet the sappy part of Woojin’s mind kept insisting that it could see specks of gold in Jihoon’s wide doe eyes. He snaked a hand to the nape of Jihoon’s neck and tugged oh so lightly, just enough to demolish any unnecessary space between their lips.

Any previous neediness naturally subsided amidst the sweetly unhurried movements of their mouths. Woojin’s fingers ghosted over the other boy’s ass, lower back, waist, restlessly changing direction every time their kisses deepened ever so slightly. Even through the gentlest of actions, Jihoon knew how to make a mess of the senses. Woojin was so far gone into the movement of the wicked lips atop his, too far gone; he couldn’t possibly settle on where to place his free hand that was left to aimlessly wander over Jihoon’s body with a will of its own.

Woojin felt like melting, pressed between soft sheets and smooth arms, languidly returning all kisses as if he could carry on all night. Jihoon apparently envisioned their time together in other ways, biting down on Woojin’s lower lip out of the blue. Woojin sucked in a sharp breath, digging his fingers into Jihoon’s shoulder blade. He felt rather than saw Jihoon’s lips quirking upwards in a smirk.

Woojin had many weaknesses, a vast majority of which included Jihoon in one way or another, but letting himself be blatantly disrespected like that was not one. Both his hands swiftly slipped under Jihoon’s shirt, making the boy yelp with no remorse whatsoever. “Off,” Woojin all but growled. With the way his palms were sprawled on Jihoon’s lower back, he couldn’t miss the shiver that cascaded down his spine. Jihoon wordlessly separated from Woojin and straddled him to be able to sit up properly. Coy fingers played with the hem of a shirt, fully intent on making a show.

Jihoon wasn’t the only one with dangerous knowledge – Woojin was fully aware how ticklish Jihoon was. With how his hands were firmly placed on Jihoon’s waist, he could feel Jihoon sucking in a breath every time his fingers moved even the slightest bit. Yet Jihoon was still intent on keeping the reins in his possession. He took his sweet time in lifting his shirt, a damned tease till the very end, unabashedly basking in Woojin’s gaze.

Once Jihoon slipped his arms out of the sleeves, Woojin wasn’t even patient enough to wait for the tell-tale sound of fabric hitting the floor before manhandling him so he was the one laying on his back instead, their positions switched. A toothy smile couldn’t escape Woojin at the sight of Jihoon’s indignant expression and disheveled hair.

Woojin reached for the neckline of the hoodie he was wearing, a swift tug short of sending it to the floor next to Jihoon’s shirt, but froze once he felt Jihoon grab him by the wrists. “Don’t,” Jihoon sounded almost breathless, “I really like seeing you in my clothes.” The confession, coupled with the velvet tone in which it was uttered, crashed straight into Woojin’s cheeks in a pretty pink blush. “Now come here,” Jihoon pulled Woojin in for a kiss by the strings of the hoodie.

Their kisses became more fervent, needy, just the right amount of deep and rough to light their skin on fire. Close wasn’t close enough to Woojin’s senses. He sneaked a hand beneath Jihoon’s hips to draw him in as deep into his embrace as he could. Jihoon gladly obliged by weaving his legs around Woojin’s waist, crossing his ankles on the small of Woojin’s back.

Woojin’s mouth started tracing the smooth lines of Jihoon’s face, peppering kisses on the corners of his lips, his cheekbones, his jaw, eventually edging down the expanse of tender skin of his neck as well. Jihoon ran his fingers through Woojin’s hair, lightly tugging on the locks to navigate Woojin’s lips to the exact spots he wanted them on the most. His other hand snuck underneath Woojin’s hoodie, gradually weaving a faint spider web of scratch marks across his back.

The concept of volume control was absolutely lost to Jihoon while Woojin licked a stripe down the side of his Adam’s apple. He couldn’t find it in himself to stifle any stray gasps or moans – mindfulness was the last thing on his mind when Woojin dipped a tongue into the crevice of his collarbone. Once Woojin’s shallow breaths came in contacts with the slick trails he left behind on Jihoon’s neck, goosebumps prickled on the milky skin and Jihoon’s self-restraint was honestly gone.

Woojin felt bolder with each passing second, with each sound escaping past Jihoon’s strawberry lips that were glimmering smooth from so many kisses. The lack of space between their bodies didn’t allow Jihoon‘s writhing to slip past unnoticed, either. Woojin kissed his way to the curve of Jihoon’s shoulder and promptly sunk his teeth into the soft skin, reveling in the way Jihoon’s hold on his hair sharply tightened.

Woojin was careful not to bite too hard at spots that would be tricky to disguise with clothing, yet that still left plenty of space where he was free to suck in bouquets of pretty bruises. It all went downhill for Jihoon’s sanity then. Woojin planted a flower path spanning from Jihoon’s right shoulder to his sternum, blooming in varying shades of pink, red and purple.

Jihoon wouldn’t have been surprised if the pillow beneath him had attained permanent creases from how much he was twitching at just about anything Woojin subjected him to. “If you go any slower, I might just die.”

“Karma may be a bitch, but she’s always on time,” came Woojin’s nonchalant reply before he resumed his task at hand.

Jihoon assumed he’d be able to indulge in a few moments to catch his breath once he felt Woojin’s lips leaving his skin. It hit him how naïve he’d been with a need to scream once Woojin’s tongue began trailing a straight line down his abdomen at a maddeningly slow pace. Woojin felt Jihoon’s muscles clenching beneath his mouth and concluded Jihoon tasted even sweeter when coated in revenge.

Woojin was a tad more merciful than his current victim and didn’t keep at the teasing for long. He began littering the softest of kisses all over Jihoon’s navel as a silent apology for the earlier roughness. The faint presses of Woojin’s lips led him to the edge of Jihoon’s boxers that was slightly peeking above the hem of his sweatpants. Woojin decided to add the finishing touch to his canvas – he slightly tugged the waistband of Jihoon’s boxers lower to give himself enough room to suck a vivid mark into Jihoon’s hip bone.

Jihoon wiggled under Woojin’s touch, pulling a bit harsher on his hair with a hiss. “Fuck, I always get ticklish when you go down there.”

“Do you prefer me to suck a hickey smack dab in the middle of your neck?” Woojin muttered as he lifted his head from Jihoon’s hip to marvel at his work.

“You could suck something else instead and then we wouldn’t be holding this conversation.”

 

 

 

 

Had it only been the sunlight snaking its way through the tiny crack in the curtains to attack Jihoon, he most likely wouldn’t have detached a single limb from the bed. Coupled with the smell of food seducing him from several rooms over, however? A different wave of motivation entirely.

Rolling his way out of the sheets with more dramatics than necessary, Jihoon snatched the first shirt to grace his field of vision and padded down the parquet leading to the kitchen. Not bumping into anything along the way with his eyes half-open registered as an achievement in his book.

Woojin was occupied with muttering about the lack of milk in the apartment under his breath while brutally decapitating onions. After bringing himself near the edge of tears, he held the knife clenched in his teeth like a responsible adult to be able to reach for the apron hanging nearby and tie it around his waist decently. Jihoon found it appropriate to glue himself to Woojin’s back just as the latter was slowly pushing onions into the soup bubbling on the stove with squinted eyes and a tongue poking out in concentration.

Woojin flinched in surprise and dropped much more onions than any soup needed into the pot once he felt arms weaving their way around his torso. With the way Jihoon buried himself in the crook of Woojin’s neck, he couldn’t witness the dead-eyes gaze with which Woojin simply observed the boiling broth and the empty chopping board in his hand.

Woojin accepted reality with a sigh. “Good morning.”

Jihoon didn’t lift his head from Woojin’s neck. “This apron makes you look ten times cuter than you actually are.”

“Shut up, I’m hot as hell in pink.”

Woojin casually resumed his chef duties and fussed over the seasoning selection lined on the counter with Jihoon attached to his back as if the boy was simply another kitchen accessory. He almost dropped the salt shaker in the pot at the pair of lips near his pulse point sending heat to drip down his skin.

“I’m not against this, per se, but right about now I’m gonna fuck up the soup even more if you keep it up and we’ll die hungry and miserable,” Woojin managed to scold with an even tone, not without letting out a gulp when he felt the trail of kisses slowly climbing up his jaw.

Telling Jihoon not to do something was fundamentally the same as goading him into unraveling the world at its seams, even more so if the source of said goading was the one he was currently latched onto. Jihoon’s lips ended their hike a breath away from the shell of Woojin’s ear. Woojin didn’t see, didn’t feel, he _heard_ the cheeky smirk in Jihoon’s voice. A particular voice reserved for particular moments, slightly deeper than Jihoon’s regular speaking tone, the one he knew Woojin was defenseless against. “I can just eat you instead.”

Woojin didn’t expect Jihoon to simply let him live, but he didn’t quite expect the teeth grazing his ear, either. The way Jihoon lightly bit his lobe and tugged on his piercings sent a shiver to reverberate through his limbs. Woojin was just about ready to melt away alongside his sense of time, what with the way he was seamlessly pressed against Jihoon’s chest, a pair of hands firmly holding him close by the hips.

An actual whine escaped Woojin once Jihoon loosened his hold and moved away, accentuated by his lower lip jutting out in a pout. Jihoon vaguely gestured in the direction of the stove. “Stuff’s boiling pretty intensely, it looks done to me.” That was the moment that seemed to thrust Woojin’s earlier worrywart fit back into his head, making him swiftly reach for the ladle with a cuss or two.

The soup turned out edible. Decent, even. In a pleasant turn of events, nobody ended up dying, sans Woojin’s mind that remained buried in the gutter for the rest of the morning.

 

 

 

 

Woojin woke up to an empty bed and dead lights. He stretched the remnants of his earlier nap away from his limbs like a cat and lifted himself from the sheets with a heave. Wandering throughout the apartment led him to the same view of flicked off light switches in every room. That left him with only one destination.

The cool night air swirled around him with soft caresses once he cracked the door to the balcony open. Woojin’s eyes trailed along the balcony railing until they reached its corner. More specifically, Jihoon sitting on its corner. Jihoon sat perched on the edge with one hand firmly holding onto the railing and the other battling the nips of cold weather to hold a cigarette. Its slim shape complimented the boy’s slender fingers quite well. Woojin managed to catch the upwards quirk of Jihoon’s lips aimed at him before it got sheeted by a thin curtain of smoke.

Woojin went to prop himself on the railing, his elbows the span of a hand away from where Jihoon was settled. His gaze slowly slid down the distance separating their balcony from the pavement below. The city lights running through the night continued their chase as reflections in Woojin’s eyes. “One of these days you’ll end up falling and I won’t be there to glue your reckless ass back together.”

Jihoon snorted, a gust of smoke escaping through his nose. “I’ve already fallen for you, though.”

Woojin buried his face in his arms amidst a fit of laughter. “I’m pushing you off here myself, you asshole.”

He remained hunched forward under the weight of his thoughts a tad longer before finally straightening his back. One of his hands slowly followed the cold metal of the railing until it reached Jihoon’s hip. Woojin moved to stand right in front of Jihoon, positioned between his slightly spread legs, and left both his hands to rest on Jihoon’s ass. Their gazes melded together into a single thread of want.

Jihoon recognized the silent request. He brought his middle and index fingers closer to his mouth to draw a generous inhale from the cigarette stick held between. His other hand let go of its grip on the railing to find purchase around Woojin’s neck instead. The distance between their faces melted off into the night below the balcony until their lips were a shaky breath apart. Jihoon gently exhaled a thick cloud of gray smoke, breaking eye-contact to peer at Woojin’s lips. Woojin caught the tobacco mist before the night air could. He waited until Jihoon’s eyes were back on his, not a single glance astray, before blowing the gust of smoke right back into his face and breaking into a grin.

Jihoon was witnessing a wonder of the world mere inches in front of him with the way Woojin’s snaggletooth was poking out alongside that contagious smile. He stubbed whatever was left of his cigarette on the edge of the balcony, leaving it forgotten in favour of weaving both his arms around Woojin’s neck and wasting no time in diving in for a kiss. He wrapped his legs around Woojin as well, as if competing with the night chilliness over who could envelop the younger more intimately.

Amidst fervent meetings of lips and tongues, Woojin sneaked his arms beneath Jihoon’s thighs to hoist him up from the railing. He turned around to push the balcony door open with an elbow, kicking it back closed after sneaking the two of them inside the apartment’s warmth. Woojin kicked the coffee table on the way to the living room due to Jihoon kissing any and all sense out of him, but managed to reach the couch without casualties. The two collapsed into the couch without the thought of separating even crossing their minds.

Jihoon broke the string of kisses to reposition himself and properly straddle Woojin. The two reveled in the slight pause with small huffs to catch their breath. The lights in the room were off, but Woojin still strained his vision to admire Jihoon. He was certain that the boy’s lips were ravaged red from making out, a richer colour than his extensive collection of lip balm could achieve.

Jihoon’s hands found themselves cupping Woojin’s cheeks. Woojin’s immediate reaction was to lean into the touch, but promptly hissed at the contact. “Your hands are cold.” Thinking he was saving himself by prying Jihoon’s hands off of his face, Woojin left himself vulnerable to attacks. He shrieked once he felt cold fingers swiftly sneaking beneath his shirt and pressing themselves against his abdomen.

Jihoon showed no intention of moving. “Warm me up, then.”

Woojin made sure to meet Jihoon’s taunting gaze dead-on as he slid a hand higher and higher up his thigh. “Be careful what you wish for,” Woojin uttered, his low tone emphasizing each word. He lifted his hand, delivering a quick smack on Jihoon’s ass. Jihoon couldn’t even attempt to bite back the gasp that left him. Woojin firmly kept his eyes on Jihoon’s. “Because I can damn well grant it.”

The subtle growl in Woojin’s voice sent sparks down Jihoon’s spine. Once he leaned in for a kiss, the sparks grew into an ardent flame, one that never quite left either of them while they were together.

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my first language + I don't have any beta reader to torture by making them go through my shit + if all the make out sessions I've had in my life were at least half as passionate as all this homoerotic stuff I conjure in MS Word I probably would've been a less grumpy human in general = pls don't egg me if this sucks
> 
> I'm fucking happy to get this off my gay lil chest tho you have no idea
> 
> Feel free to yell at me [@shimramyun](https://twitter.com/shimramyun) on twitter!


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